krizariel

[krizariel]

more jaytims doodles I need out of my system

[krizariel]

Run Little Bird

[krizariel]

Tim and Jason's first child is the Roomba Jason stuck googly eyes on. They named him Jim and they love him very much.

[krizariel]

snippet saturday

I got tagged by @takemetomyfragiledreams for a Snippet Saturday! (I love getting tagged in these things. You spoil me so good. 🖤) And I did a thing. Like a continuation of my jaytim one-shot monster mash kind of thing. And what's under the cut is probably more than a snippet but, hey, short and concise just ain't my thing and I've made my peace with that. That being said, enjoy this heap of dragon!Tim riding in to save his damsel familiar demon!Jason. (I didn't edit nuffin' so beware, probably typos afoot.)

Idk who to tag 🥲 So, if you're reading this, I tag you. No take backsies.

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Most people wear their glamors whenever they’re out in public. The mixing of humans, creatures, humanoids and all those in-between has come a long way. It’s harmonious, almost. Not everywhere, not all the time. Crime against creatures and hybrids is higher still than humans and those creatures human enough to pass for normal. So whether out of fear or consideration or conformity, glamoring is as prevalent as it has always been.

For Robin, for Tim, that is doubly true. 

Dick and Jason were witches. It didn’t matter for them. The ethereal, glowing eyes of a witch in their half and full forms are hidden by the dominos. For all anyone else could tell, Robin was something but no one could ever pin down exactly what. There’s too many magical beings now openly living shoulder to shoulder with humans for it to matter. Too much magic freely floating through the air to definitively pick out a specific thread and follow it from the vigilante to the person behind the mask. Being witches allowed them the freedom to fully spread their wings without fear of giving away their identities whether they were Robin or Dick or Jason. 

Bruce has the world convinced Brucie is a bumbling idiot of a human while Batman is very obviously more but there’s enough creatures out there like daevas to muddy the waters. 

Of course, Tim’s parents wanted a flashy hybrid to parade around the balls and galas they bothered to attend when they were in Gotham. A new treasure his father could point to and boast about, proof of his mother’s superiority over the other children of the elite. They’d hoped he’d even get the unique ability to function without a familiar afforded to creature and humanoid hybrids. Rarely, the tempering magic of a humanoid would be enough to balance and tame the raw, electric power of creature magic. Then there’s no need to balance the scales through unnecessary attachments. 

Tim visited enough doctors as a kid, paid enough to keep their mouths shut to do procedures typically only done after seventeen at the limit of when bonds form, for his parents to come to the early conclusion Tim wouldn’t be one of the lucky hybrids. They got their trophy to stuff into stiff suits and march across marble floors but their disappointment in the knowledge Tim wouldn’t be able to function independently was a weighted, palpable thing. 

It’s always been customary for the wealthy to hide their true forms but, after that, they gave him a talisman to wear to events on top of his own glamors.

Becoming Robin and having Bruce harshly demand he always keep his glamors up wasn’t jarring because he’d already grown used to it. The magic started to itch if left too long. Sometimes Tim would forget to remove them even at home despite the cold, empty rooms being his only company. Sacrificing the truth of himself for Robin wasn’t a hardship. Nowadays, it’s second nature. He hardly even remembers what he looks like in his half and full forms. But he does know a half dragon, half elf is too conspicuous to ever be seen as Robin. It would be all too easy to connect the dots between such a rare hybrid and Tim Drake. 

Even just the thought of breaking his glamors, in public no less, is enough to make his heart race and his palms sweat but his bond is screaming familiar in danger over and over again as pain dances along every nerve. Tim can’t see any other way to neatly wrap up the mess Jason has created. From his vantage point perched on a billboard across the street from a nondescript warehouse on the southside of the docks, Tim counts at least fifty heavily armed mercenaries and one Red Hood.

Jason is powerful. Incredibly so, but everyone has their limits. The relative stability of Tim’s fused magics, his more prominent elven blood making the powerhouse magic of his dragon side more docile, compared to the volatile churning of Jason’s does come with the perk of not needing contact with his familiar as often. Which is all the better since Jason has made himself scarce since their last meeting. He’s posited that Jason likely doesn’t enjoy the same benefit given the incendiary nature of his magic, where the demon side reigns supreme and feeds, feeds, feeds off the magic of the witch. 

He can’t imagine what state Jason is in. Tim had already drafted a plan to hunt Jason down again for his own damn good. 

Now he’s being forced to speed up his timetable and make what seems like an impossible choice. Fifty guys, most likely armed with bullets and magic themselves, is something Robin can’t handle with a handicapped Red Hood. The thought of calling in Batman and Nightwing for back up rankles. There would be no hiding the bond with him and Jason close to one another, not from Bruce and, by extension, from Dick who serves as his familiar. Tim isn’t ready to share this part of himself yet. It’s a tender, open wound Jason tore open again, a weakness he hasn’t created a workaround for yet. 

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t, though. 

Heaving a long, weary sigh, Tim straightens up and hops down off the billboard while casting a temporary veil of invisibility over himself. With deft fingers, Tim does the latches on the Robin uniform and stuffs them into a cache stored inside the defunct AC unit nearby. Left with nothing but his undershirt and tights, Tim stands at the edge of the roof and grimaces. He can feel the swell of magic bubbling under his skin, equally soothing and irritating the pain channeling through the bond into him. 

Man, he really hopes he isn’t making a terrible mistake. 

Mind already made up, Tim shoves away his self-doubt and leaps off the roof with his arms spread. He closes his eyes and wipes away the haze of the glamors while pulling on his own magic to wrap around himself. To embrace himself and what he truly is. It’s pain and relief rolled into one, like scratching an itch viciously enough to bleed. His skin ripples and stretches, bones breaking down and knitting back together while muscle and sinew stretch to accommodate. As much as it sucks, because it does, Tim feels freer than he does swinging from his grapple through Gotham’s skies. 

He wants to laugh but it comes out as a chuff because of his snout. His paws slam into the concrete of the road, claws digging in and ripping it up. Bounding towards the warehouse, Tim decides to go for shock and awe. Most people don’t expect a full-fledged dragon to run into them head on. He knows even as a drake he's on the smaller side for dragons and doesn't have the added bulk wings would give his silhouette. Still, a dragon no matter the sub-type is a dragon and their reputation as an apex predator has been well earned in and out of the magic community.

Running on four legs is weird, especially with the unwieldy weight of his tail thumping clumsily against the ground behind him, so Tim stumbles the first couple steps but he settles into a loping run as he closes the distance between himself and the warehouse. The spines along the top of his head and down his spine shift with each powerful push of his legs. By the time he’s throwing himself bodily into the wooden bay doors of the warehouse, Tim has even managed to wrangle his tail into some semblance of order so it's not throwing off his balance so badly. 

The wood gives way easily, no match for Tim’s plated scales and thick hide. He skids across the warehouse floor, claws leaving gouges in his wake. Everything inside the building stops as Tim settles in the center of the room. No one so much as moves, too busy gaping at Tim to fire their guns and shoot off a burst of magic. His inner elf wants to preen at the stunned attention but Tim squashes the stupid impulse. 

Instead, he roars into the silence of the warehouse. The sound of it reverberates off the glass of the windows, completely destroying the ones closest to Tim. Tim’s tail swings back and forth agitatedly as he bears his teeth. The deep black of his smooth scales explode into a brief starburst of color when the light catches them like he’s been armored with plates of black opal. Tim rears his head back and roars with his whole chest this time as his tail slams into the floor and cracks the concrete.

The first roar was an announcement of his presence. The second is a warning to stay away from what is his.

[krizariel]

🤷🏻‍♂️ (Not my best “meme”)

[krizariel]

An important part of the enemies to lovers trope is that at one point, the enemy will ask you to join him

[krizariel]

based on my own reverse robins au

[krizariel]

Natural selection at its finest

[krizariel]

hehe made him hold flowers

[krizariel]

robins and their shadows

[krizariel]

So I just learned 5 minutes ago that "/pos" is a tone indicator for "positive" :)

[krizariel]

New year, re-opening the shop after a hiatus to take care of the zine…

I have a few pins in stock, hopefully can be done this year :D shares appreciated!

Etsy shop: HERE

[krizariel]

Kayla you never miss

Kiss ask meme!!! Jaytim with #20 …on a scar, please? 🥰🥰🥰🥰

You got it! One of my fav tropes tbh. I hope you don't mind me putting a little JJ!Tim and Arkham Knight!Jason in there

They both have a lot of scars. Tim learns that Jason's shoulders are almost always in agony from the deep tissue trauma the barbed wire carved into his skin, back when the Joker was still alive and forced him to sit in his chair. Jason learns that Tim's body is littered in healed electrical and chemical burns that either leave him numb or dial his nerves up to eleven depending on the day.

Tim guards Jason's back from any heavy hits, even despite the reinforced armor there and Jason makes sure no one ever touches Tim's face or takes off his mask.

It is not easy, learning one another's triggers. Sometimes it ends in reflexive hits or a day of cold silence.

The first time Tim kisses Jason's cheek scar ends in neither. To be quite honest, Jason is so tired at the time that he barely even notices.

The first time they kiss and Jason dares to trail away from Tim's mouth and over his slashed cheeks, Tim is too impatient to get his clothes off to fully comprehend what's happening.

It occurs like this, again and again. Little moments that are overshadowed by the bigger picture, until one morning Tim finds himself kissing Jason's cheek while Jason's fingers run through his hair, calloused thumb running gentle over the uneven tissue close to his ear.

"You love me," Tim realizes, almost wonderingly.

Jason goes tense all at once but doesn't deny it.

Tim presses his face into Jason's neck and shakes. It's unclear if he's laughing or crying, since he is entirely silent.

Finally, he leans back in Jason's arms to stare down at him with reddened eyes and a teeth baring smile.

"I love you too, you know," he informs him.

Jason's face does something strange and complicated. Finally, he sighs and draws Tim back down.

"It's too early fer this," he grouses without heat.

Tim giggles into his chest, nearly manic.

[krizariel]

Tim and Jason never consider themselves as "brothers," but they would definitely call each other like that in front of other members of family. They would do it in the most seductive tone, standing unnecessarily close

[krizariel]

[krizariel]

Tfw it's like 4 am and you just got done with patrol and your brain isn't fully with it

[krizariel]

AU where Anakin and Owen are actually brothers like we deserved in the films. Nothing about the plot changes it just makes everything like 20% sadder. (Plus space wizard farmer family shenanigans).

I honestly believe half-brother Owen could give Anakin enough of a reality check for this to be a fix-it au LOL

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